


The Boy with the Dragon Tattoo

by GingerTodgers



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Background Relationships, Fluff, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Humor, M/M, Magical Tattoos, Post-Hogwarts, Snowball Fight, Tattoos, The Burrow (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-12 01:09:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16863397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GingerTodgers/pseuds/GingerTodgers
Summary: A snowball fight at the Burrow leads to Draco catching sight of Harry's new dragon tattoo.





	The Boy with the Dragon Tattoo

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bangyababy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bangyababy/gifts).



> Happy holidays bangyababy! Your prompts were as brilliant as you are and I had so much fun writing this. I hope you enjoy it and have a wonderful festive season.
> 
> A thousand thanks to the terrific T and the marvelous mods for all your patience and encouragement.

The snowball fight is winding down, and everyone is thoroughly soaked by the time Molly calls them in for lunch. All eight try to cram through the backdoor at once, grabbing towels and casting drying spells as they scuff the snow off their shoes.

“Careful, dear,” Molly murmurs to Ron, Vanishing the small flecks of snow his enthusiastic stamping has sprayed on the hallway walls.

“Sorry,  Mum.” He kisses her cheek, flipping two fingers behind his back as Harry and George break into a choreographed routine of, ‘Honestly Ronald, do have some care!’ and ‘Such an uncouth young man!’ The three of them disappear towards the kitchen, laughing and pushing as Draco and Pansy gratefully accept their towels.

“You know where everything is?” Molly’s smile slips as she asks the question, although this may be due to the loud crashes coming from the kitchen.

“Yes, thank you, Mrs Weasley,” says Pansy, hiding a smile as Molly hurries away.

“Mrs Weasley,” Draco scoffs on autopilot, his frozen fingers fumbling with the buttons of his coat. “You are going to have to call her ‘Molly’ one day.”

“Not today.” Pansy replies, rubbing a towel through her hair. “She called me ‘Pea’ the last time we were here.” The overly casual words drag Draco’s thoughts away from black ink stretched across soft brown skin.

“A new nickname?” he asks, without much hope. Percy’s ex-wife Penelope had introduced herself as ‘Pea Weasley’ at the Hogwarts Reconciliation Ball, and while the marriage had not lasted, the association had.

“More like wistful thinking.” Pansy finishes towelling off her hair and starts flinging anti-wrinkle spells at her tights. “She’ll never forgive me for ousting her favourite daughter-in-law.”

“Her favourite daughter-in-law who was divorced from Percy over a year before you began seeing him.”

“Pshaw. We should join the others, oh goodness-” Pansy finally takes a proper look at Draco “-you’re soaked!” On cue, a cold icy dribble of melted snow finds its way beneath Draco’s collar. He shivers, remembering how Ron had grasped Harry’s jumper, yanking the collar open to stuff snow down Harry’s back. A move that revealed several inches of Harry’s lower back and… “Draco?” Pansy’s face creases with concern. “Are you alright? You’re not getting ill, are you?”

“Hmm?” Draco misses Pansy’s answering huff, his thoughts once again noting the contrast between soft red wool, smooth skin, and the slightly raised lines of a new tattoo. “Oh do leave off.” He bats Pansy’s hands away as she moves to help him with his coat. Too late, he notices Pansy’s dark lipstick almost disappear as her mouth thins.

“Well,” she says, flipping the end of Draco’s scarf up so that it slaps him wetly across the face. “Thank you for the timely reminder that I am neither your elf nor your mother. Not that Narcissa would ever stand for such behaviour.”

“Pans.”

“Don’t bother.” She turns and walks away, leaving Draco in a puddle of melting snow.

“I didn’t mean-” the kitchen door slams shut. Honestly. He huffs, casting thawing charms at his own fingers. Poor old girl was probably uneasy about leaving Percy and his mother alone for too long, but there really was no need to- “Oh hang it all.” he snaps, Banishing the stubborn scarf and following Pansy into the warm glow of the kitchen.

 

***

 

 _A dragon tattoo!_ Lunch is nearly over, and Draco’s mind continues to be firmly fixated on Harry’s lower back.

“Custard? Draco?” Arthur offers the jug, smiling in a way that suggests it isn’t the first time he’s asked.

“Oh, yes, thank you.” Draco grabs the jug, dumping half the contents into his bowl and hastily passing it down the table to… “Ginny?” Had she been sitting next to him all this time?

“Alright?” She grins, passing the nearly empty jug to Percy. “Something on your mind?”

“Hm?” The black scales, the hint of a wing, it had to be a dragon.

“Hey.” Ginny reaches over to snap her fingers in front of Draco’s face. “Not that I mind listening to Percy drone on about cursed rectums-”

“ _Rectus in curia_ is a serious legal issue that-”

“Watch me not care.” Ginny interrupts Percy’s attempt to defend himself. “Anyway, Draco, what’s up?”

“Rather callous.” Draco nods to Percy’s huffishly turned back.

“It’s only Percy.”

“Yes. Percy and his ardent defender who looks ready to insert one of her Louboutins into your ear.” Draco gives Pansy a small wave. She ignores him and continues to glare at Ginny.

“Shit.”

“Indeed. Just as well that there is an entire table between the two of you.” Draco finally notices that Pansy is sitting between Hermione and George, as far as she could  possibly be from Percy. Taking a moment to absorb the rest of the seating arrangements, Draco realises that someone is missing. “Where’s Harry?” he asks, turning to find that Ginny is busy apologising to Percy.

“You looking for Harry, mate?” George calls down the table. “He’s in the library. Work call.”

“Right, um… Forgive me, I just need...” Draco stands.

“Maybe you should go and check on him.” Hermione smiles encouragingly.

“I don’t…” Draco hovers. They are all so damnably knowing. Smiling and nodding and telling him where to find Harry, as if he cares. Well, obviously Draco does care. There is the question of the dragon tattoo to undress-unwrap, he mentally corrects himself. But he didn’t care enough to warrant an entire table of Weasleys and assorted hangers-on looking at him and, and, and-

“Draco!” Molly bustles out of the pantry, a steaming dish of apple crumble floating behind her. “Be a love and check on Harry? He’s in the-”

“Library, yes, of course.” Draco hastily backs out of the kitchen, pausing a moment to collect himself in the dark hallway. Right.

 

***

 

The Weasley library was actually just a slightly wider section of the first floor landing, inhabited by a comfy window seat, the Muggle phone stand (swathed in a protective bubble), and a collection of sudoku books. Harry is curled up on the seat, the phone jammed between his shoulder and cheek as he traces patterns on the condensation-streaked glass.

Unwilling to interrupt, Draco lingers on the top step.

 _A dragon tattoo. A tattoo of a dragon. It had to be!_ His thoughts continued on their maddening hamster wheel, throwing out reminders of the way Harry had leapt in the air to avoid being hit. The way that stupid, flappy jumper had lifted again, flashing a tantalizing glimpse of-

“Draco?” Harry is covering the phone, twisting to look over his shoulder. The movement makes the edge of his t-shirt catch against one of the cushions, and there it is again. “Do you need the phone? I’ll just be a minute.”

“N-no.” Draco shakes his head.

“Alright, won’t be long.” Harry grins, swinging his feet down to the floor and turning to face Draco. “Yeah,” he says, uncovering the receiver. “Makes sense. Yeah. Good one Mazza. Alright. Ok.” He rolls his eyes, still grinning at Draco. Against his better judgement, Draco feels himself grinning back.

Sitting on the top step, Draco watches as Harry tries and fails to wrap up the call. For another minute Harry continues to mouth apologies, then something changes and he stills, an eyebrow quirked.

Maybe the change is simply the way Draco is finally letting himself look at Harry. Letting himself take in broad, slightly curved shoulders. The way Harry’s t-shirt is still rucked up on the left side, showing off the soft swoop of his belly and revealing to the outside world the tattoo, _the dragon tattoo_ , that Draco is now certain stretches across Harry’s lower back.

As Draco watches, Harry leans back against the window and allows his thick thighs to fall slightly open, grinning at whatever reaction he sees on Draco’s face.

“Yeah.” Harry says again, for perhaps the thousandth time since Draco sat down. “Yeah, right.” He straightens up, talking a bit faster. “Yeah, yeah, ok, ok, ok, k, k, okthanksbyeseeyousoon!” He slams the phone down, grinning as Draco laughs. “Sorry. Work.”

“On a Sunday?” Draco asks, standing up and taking a step towards the window seat. “Dreadfully unfair. Don’t they know who you are?”

“Pack it in.” Harry doesn’t stand, but tips his head back as Draco moves closer. “M’fairly sure that saviour stuff is why they’re calling on a Sunday. Making sure I don’t get too up myself.”

“Dear, dear. Anyone who knew you at Hogwarts could tell them it’s a lost cause.” Draco takes a final step, standing almost but not quite between Harry’s knees.

“Wanker.” Harry grins.

“Mm, stand up. Please.”

Harry’s eyes widen slightly, and he shuffles on the window seat. He clears his throat. “Why?”

 _Because I want to see you._ Draco almost replies. “Because I want to see your new tattoo,” is what he actually says, giving thanks that his tone remains light. For a moment he thinks Harry is going to refuse and then…

“Alright.” Harry stands in a rush, too fast for Draco to step back. They are standing very close, the air warm between them. Turning slowly, Harry hikes his t-shirt up under his armpits, exposing his lower back.

It’s a dragon. A beautiful, powerful, dragon.

“Oh.” Draco reaches out a hand, catches his fingertips on the edge of Harry’s belt as he asks: “Does it hurt? Can I…” He wants to ask if he can touch it.

“What do you see?” Harry’s breath is coming a little fast, and it’s almost enough to distract Draco.

“What an odd question, don’t you know what it looks like?”

“Just… tell me?”

“It’s a dragon.” Draco wills himself to stay calm. “You have a tattoo of a dragon.”

“Huh.” Harry abruptly lets the t-shirt drop, stepping around Draco and making for the stairs. “Interesting.”

“What-” Without thinking, Draco reaches out and snags Harry’s wrist. “Where are you going?”

“I…” Harry’s eyes are fixed on Draco’s long, pale fingers.

“Harry?”

“It’s temporary. One of the magical ones George is trialling at Wheezes.”

“What does it do?” Draco tries to draw comfort from the fact that Harry hasn’t pulled away.

“It, er, it shows the viewer whatever they most desire,” says Harry, ripping the bottom out of Draco’s stomach. “Bit like the Mirror of Erised, you know?” He darts a glance at Draco, then quickly looks away. “Ginny talked me into having it, er, there-” he makes an abortive gesture towards the small of his back. “I thought, um. Thought when you came up here that you might be coming to rip the piss out of me, you know, maybe for having a tattoo of myself or something…”

Draco… Draco is at a loss. Harry does not have a dragon tattoo. Harry has a tattoo that is designed to be seen by anyone, to be admired by anyone. As tattoos are, Draco reminds himself. That is, generally, why people get tattoos, temporary or not. People do not just go around tattooing themselves with symbols of their old school rivals, no matter how much Draco might-

“So a person who was hungry might see a pumpkin pasty?” he asks.

“Er, yeah. Guess so. Or a slice of pizza, or something.” Silence falls. Draco is still holding Harry’s wrist, his thumb rubbing across the soft, warm skin. With a huff of air, Harry reaches out to stop the movement. “Sorry,” he says, glancing at the stairs. “Probably should-”

“You thought, you hoped-” Draco corrects himself, “-that I was coming up here to laugh at you for having a tattoo of yourself.”

“Yep.” Harry nods. “A bit. We should go downstairs, Molly will be asking where we are-”

“Because you were hoping that the thing I desire the most is you.” Draco doesn’t even try to stop the smile spreading across his face. Hope fizzes in his chest, spills out along his arms, through his body to the roots of his hair and the bottom of his feet.

“Fuck’s sake,” Harry pulls away. “There’s no need to be such a wanker about it, bit of an honest mistake on my part is all. Turns out your love for yourself is the greatest thing of-will you stop fucking smiling?” His voice rises.

“Right, um, well actually I-” Draco stops, takes a deep breath. “I’m smiling because I am happy, I think.”

“You think?”

“Yes. In fact-” taking advantage of Harry’s confusion, Draco steps closer. “I did not see a tattoo of your face, which would have been rather terrifying, if I may point that out.” Harry huffs, rolls his eyes, does not argue. “What I saw-” Draco lifts hands that only slightly tremble, places one on Harry’s waist, the other cradles his right cheek. “-was a visual representation of myself, Draco, a dragon. On you.” Harry blinks.

“Because you love yourself?” he asks, voice cracking.

“Yes.” Draco sighs, letting his thumb drift across to press gently against Harry’s bottom lip. “Because I love myself. Or because I, ah-” He clears his throat.

“Right, um. What’s this thumb thing?” Harry breaks the spell. “Is this one of your Slytherin seduction skills or am I supposed to suck it or summit?” Face hot, Draco pulls his thumb away, steps back.

“I apologise,” he says, raking a hand through his hair. “A momentary lapse in-”

“Fuck’s sake, come here.” Harry sighs as he reaches out and hauls Draco in by his lapels. “Wasn’t complaining, just working out the ground rules.”

Draco opens his mouth to reply, only to become distracted by the soft press of Harry’s lips against his own.

“Oh.” He sighs, moving back into Harry’s space. “Oh, you are such a… a wanker.”

“Yeah.” Harry grins up at Draco. “Now, kiss me a bit more?”

“In the Weasley library?” Draco asks, even as he leans in for another kiss.

“Exactly,” Harry moves closer, nudging his nose against Draco’s. “We’re in a library, Malfoy. Far too much talking. What would Madam Pince-” Draco cuts him off, chasing the words from Harry’s lips and valiantly rejecting all thoughts of Hogwarts librarians and dragon tattoos.


End file.
